


A Tryst in the Tower

by digitalfairy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Other, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Pining, Sex Magic, ambiguous WoL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-18 00:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19965637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalfairy/pseuds/digitalfairy
Summary: The Exarch gets what he deserves.





	A Tryst in the Tower

Rarely, rarely did the Crystal Exarch sleep. So much work to do, his labor spanning eras and realities. He rested when he had free moments, yes, and sometimes he crashed when his body simply refused to continue moving, even despite the tower’s energizing effect on his crystalline flesh. It was only very occasionally that he found eight whole bells to spare for unconsciousness. Only on those blissful occasions could he could doff the robe he always wore and crawl limply under the covers of the lavish bed he’d claimed, deep within the Crystal Tower.

Tonight - and finally he could mean the word when he thought it - was one such occasion. His work was far from finished, of course. There were still the Scions’ wandering souls to send home, still so much healing to attend to in this shard. But the First no longer teetered on the brink of a blinding, stagnant oblivion, so that monumental task, at least, was complete. G’raha Tia felt he deserved to close his eyes for a while. He would work again with a fresh mind and an inspired soul upon the morrow.

But it was not to be. Scarcely had he gotten comfortable under his sheets and begun to drift off when he was rudely jolted back to alertness by a voice.

“Exarch? You have an important guest.” Captain Lyna’s voice carried through a speaking-tube from the hall outside the Ocular. “They’re rather adamant that you see them now.” Was that amusement in her clipped words?

The Exarch sighed and sat up. “If it’s that urgent, I’ll be there in just a moment.” He slid off the edge of the bed onto the floor, bare feet finding his sandals as he stood. He put on his cowl next. His hands moved automatically to lift the hood and conceal his face, but he stopped himself. No need to preserve the mystery anymore. He took up his staff - one never knew - and walked as briskly as he could muster down the stairs, through the twisting hallways, back to the Ocular once more.

When he pushed open the door, the Exarch was surprised both by his visitor and by their manner of dress. He knew them well in their worn combat gear, ready to sally forth on his behalf, and he knew them staggering back after a momentous battle covered in dust and blood. But though he had watched the Warrior of Light from afar on many an occasion, he had never seen them dressed… quite like this.

“My friend, my champion, what… brings you back to Norvrandt so soon?” The Exarch’s words wavered rather more than he would have liked them to. He couldn’t help it - the hero cleaned up ever so nicely, and their outfit was casually but notably flattering. A sudden suspicion lanced through G’raha’s mind, but he dared not hope…

The Warrior of Light, now also the Warrior of Darkness, bit their lip and smiled gently at him. “I thought we might... celebrate our victory.” They sidled closer to the Exarch, spreading their arms invitingly, and the Exarch had to stop himself from leaping into their embrace.

G’raha’s heart thumped in a way it hadn’t in some time. “I… I suppose… Is this not a bit sudden?”

“Sudden?” The Warrior burst out laughing. “Coming from you, that’s rich. How long have you waited?” they teased, and G’raha felt his cheeks color.

“I couldn’t possibly distract you from...” It was a weak rebuff, and it died before it fully manifested as he hesitantly closed the distance between them. “Oh, who am I kidding. How long _have_ I watched and waited and _burned_ for you, Warrior of Light. And yet, I was fully prepared to renounce that want forever...”

They hushed his babbling with a kiss, so sudden and hungry it sent a shiver down his spine. “G’raha Tia,” they whispered in his ear. “The Scions have nothing to report. No tasks for me. I returned ahead of schedule. So I suddenly have many, many spare bells to fill.”

They danced a crooked tango back to G’raha’s bed, neither really willing to let the embrace go long enough to do anything as banal as walk. They stumbled on the stairs as G’raha’s visitor brushed aside his graying hair and fiercely kissed him again, and again. The Exarch’s ornate robe grew hopelessly tangled thanks to the strong hands heedlessly exploring his back, and eventually he just struggled out of the damn thing and flung it aside. The bed was close anyroad.

The Warrior of Darkness exhaled satisfaction as they gently bore the Exarch down against his luxurious mattress. Or was it G’raha, pulling them down atop himself as his long vigil finally bore such luscious fruit? They wanted each other, needed each other, so urgently that there were no more words exchanged that night. Just kisses on bare skin, flesh and crystalline both. Gasps and sighs and meaningless whispers pressed against the Exarch’s neck. Heavy, desperate heat and arched backs. The Crystal Tower’s magicks spiraling about them lightly, a breed of heightened pleasure only G’raha could offer. A union centuries in the making, and worthy of such distinction in every respect.

And just as the Exarch finally achieved a brilliant height of ecstasy unlike any he’d ever known, he _awoke._ He awoke sweaty and unfulfilled from his blissful dream. He awoke to a giggle in his ear, and a whisper of wind across his cheek, and an orange flash of aether spiraling upwards and away.

The Exarch breathed the culprit’s name aloud in hurt disbelief. “Feo Ul… What a cruel joke you’ve played. Steering my dreams so...” No response. Defeated, G’raha heaved a sigh. "As if I need your help to fantasize about them," he mumbled.

G'raha sunk back into his pillow, hoping vainly he might somehow return to that wondrous fantasy. His heart was racing and so were his thoughts, though, and that stymied his attempts at further rest. The covers were too warm and he threw them off in a huff.

“Exarch,” came Lyna’s call through the speaking-tube, before he could stew in his tangled feelings any longer. “You have a visitor.”

He groaned. “Who is it?”

“Warrior of Darkness, ser.”

“One moment.” G’raha somehow maintained his composure, despite his singing nerves demanding he scream with the unfairness of it all. How was he to face them right after _that?_ He took his time getting ready, hoping the flush would be gone from his cheeks by the time he finished cinching the various layers of his ornate cloak.

Still, though, he hurried downstairs. It wouldn't do to keep them waiting _too_ long.

“Good evening,” he greeted his guest. The Warrior was clad in their usual gear, battle ready but appropriately fashionable. G'raha masterfully suppressed his disappointment. “I’m surprised you found your way back so soon.”

“Nothing else to do,” they shrugged noncommittally. “How are things here?”

It was to be a normal conversation, then. The Exarch tried to marshal his scrambled thoughts. “Nothing much to report, I’m afraid. I think we’re all resting after that horrible ordeal.”

The Warrior nodded approvingly. “Good. You deserve it. All Norvrandt deserves it.” There was that winning smile he so adored.

The Ocular was silent for a few moments.

“Oh, one more thing,” they finally added. “I asked my lovely branch to pass a short message on to you. Did you get it?” Their mouth turned up mischievously at one corner.

An expression reminiscent of said pixie, the Exarch mused, even as he sputtered and flushed dark. What a match they were. “I… could you perhaps elaborate? The message’s content may have been, erm, _totally lost_ amidst the means Feo Ul chose to convey it.” He couldn’t meet their eyes.

The Warrior grinned. “Judging by your face I think it came through loud and clear.”

The Exarch had not the faintest sliver of composure left to prop himself up against. So the Warrior would suffice as a support instead. “Wicked white,” he breathed as he hugged them tight. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“We were both busy,” they reminded him. “Neither you nor I could afford a distraction like that. But now...”

“Now you have a lot to answer for,” G’raha managed to quip. “That message of yours… Phew.”

The Warrior of Darkness just wrapped their strong arms around him. “Hm. Feo Ul must have exaggerated a little. I meant to tell you the rest in person."

“On the contrary. I think my mind simply took the whisper and ran off with it,” was his whispered answer. "Let me hear it again, from your own lips."

"Gladly."

* * *

G’raha Tia went another starry night without sleep, and wouldn’t have had it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> "it was just a dream" is the lamest twist in the book but hopefully the ending makes up for it a little


End file.
